by M. D. Grimm
The crowd grew silent and Lance was surprised to see both Lukman and Kafele’s faces pale. Actual shame entered Lukman’s eyes, and he looked away, backing down. Lance didn’t understand what had just transpired. He’d missed something important. What about Gust’s parents?
Gust gripped Lance’s hand and turned, tugging him away. The crowd parted and Lance had no choice but to follow.
“Gust—”
“No!”
Lance flinched at the shout. Gust yanked him out of town and into the field where Brutus grazed. He lifted his head and eyed them with curiosity but was too content on eating to approach.
Gust only let him go when they reached the tent. The sun was slightly right of them, signally the afternoon hour. The searing rays gleamed off Gust’s eyes, and Lance was momentarily entranced. Then he realized tears swam in the green. He swallowed hard.
“Gust?” he said softly, cautiously.
Gust swayed before dropping to the ground and pulling his knees to his chest. He wrapped his arms around them and buried his face. Lance knelt in front of him, at a loss. He glanced at Brutus, and the horse merely tossed his head, indicating his own puzzlement.
Gust was in pain. Lance didn’t like that, not one bit. How could he help? Remembering what he’d observed in Thebys for the past weeks, the way normal people interacted, he scooted over to Gust’s side and gently slid one arm around his back, the other around his legs. Gust shuddered and didn’t push him away. Encouraged, Lance tightened his grip in a hug and laid his cheek on top of Gust’s braided head. He really loved those braids. Maybe Gust would do the same to his own hair?
The longer they sat there, the longer Lance had to contemplate Mandissa’s words. He liked the idea that he was meant to befriend Gust. He still didn’t understand fate and choice, though, and how they could coincide, despite Mandissa’s explanation.
Gust eventually stirred and gently eased away. Lance sat back. Gust looked up, the tears gone, a small smile on his face.
“You really need to shave,” he said.
Lance blinked before chuckling. He ran a hand over his thick scruff and nodded. “I probably should.”
He wanted to ask about Gust’s parents but said nothing. It wasn’t for him to ask despite his curiosity. He didn’t want to make Gust sad again.
Gust swallowed. “We need to get to the afternoon training. We’re already late. Can I, um, stay here tonight?”
Lance’s heart punched against his ribs as warmth filled his stomach. “I’d like that.”
Gust grinned.
Lance got that funny feeling again.
Chapter Seventeen
“My master doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” Ylva said as she reclined on his settee, fingering a small, sharp dagger.
Ulfr glowered at her. She was Lord Jorvikr’s messenger, and though he’d dealt with her before, he never grew accustomed to her complete lack of fear in his presence. She used the tip of the dagger to pick under her nails, her black riding dress and cloak making her pale skin even whiter. Her eyes were a hard amber and her long hair a searing red.
His camp was on one of the smaller islands, one hidden and fortified. It was the one he most frequented between raids. If Lord Jorvikr decided to withdraw his protection, Ulfr might have to flee across the ocean to unknown lands since traversing the breadth of the empire to reach the wildlands to the east was a death sentence. Lord Jorvikr knew most of his places where he laid low. At least there were a few places before he’d entered Jorvikr’s service seven years ago that he didn’t know about.
“It’s unavoidable,” he said through gritted teeth. “Scourge must come first. He’s a danger to us all.”
“You mean he’s a danger to you,” she said, her voice like silk and as cold as a viper. She flicked her hard gaze over him lazily. “Your dog broke his leash and now you cower and wring your hands. Methinks you should have beat him harder.”
He growled.
She smirked.
“He’s no match for me,” Ulfr said proudly. “Never has been. Once I find him—”
“And now we’re back to the waiting game,” she said. “You have a deal with my master. No exceptions. By my count you should have raided five villages by now.”
“Your lord should be more concerned with what my dog will do now that he has freedom.”
“He’s actually more concerned with the fact that you didn’t finish him off when you had the chance,” she snapped. Her eyes glinted as she stood, a tall, robust woman completely loyal to Jorvikr. “Such a failure shows weakness. My master has no use for the weak.”
Ulfr lashed out and gripped her throat. Even as he began to squeeze, he felt a jab at his groin. He froze and took in Ylva’s smug smile. He glanced down at her dagger that was currently pressed against his balls.
“Careful,” she whispered. “I might get a slap for killing you but rest assured my master will shrug off your death and find another warlord to suit his purposes. Or perhaps I’ll leave you mutilated. You won’t be able to play with your children without your cock, will you?”
Cold fear slithered through his veins. He released her and stepped back. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and continued to finger the tip of her dagger.
“You don’t have much time to earn back my master’s approval,” she said. “While I highly doubt your dog is anywhere but rotting in a ditch, I would suggest you confirm his location. Soon. You’re behind schedule.”
Ulfr growled again.
A dull ringing suddenly filled the room and Ylva raised her eyebrows. She pushed aside her cloak, revealing a pouch. She took out a small seer stone and looked around.
“Do you have a bowl and some water?”
Grumbling, Ulfr slammed a wooden bowl on the large table and dropped a sheep’s gut beside it. Ylva filled the bowl before dropping the stone into the water. She waited only a moment before the water shimmered. Having seen this before, Ulfr stepped up beside her despite his desire to be as far away from her as possible.
A nervous older man’s face shone in the water. His eyes were big and he was grimacing.
“My lady, forgive me. I must… is that Ulfr?”
“Yes, my lord, it is. What do you have to tell me? Something worth interrupting me, I hope.”
“I have just heard from a large town in the south of Cairon. They sent a messenger bearing a letter pleading for help. They claim the warlord Ulfr will be coming for them. They give no real specifics, only that there is a warrior in their midst that Ulfr is hunting.”
Ulfr’s heart leapt in delight. He shoved Ylva away and bowed over the bowl.
“Is it Scourge? Tell me!”
“I—I—”
Ylva kicked him in the ribs, sending him crashing to the ground with a shout. She straightened her cloak, eyes aflame. “Never do that again.” She turned to the lord in the water.
“Tell me more.”
“The warlord Ragel went to demand tribute. They refused and a pale man was there and he challenged Ragel. I’ve heard some talk that he fought like a child of Snet. My soldiers have captured a few of Ragel’s men.”
“Did they give any description of him?
“Pale skin, fierce blue eyes, and long blond hair. He wore peasant’s garb. Ragel was about to tell the town something about his identity but the man ran him through.”
“Does that sound like your man?” Ylva asked without looking at Ulfr.
He grunted, itching to get his hands around Lance’s neck.
“What happened to Ragel?” Ylva asked.
“The warrior killed him.” The lord gulped. “Some say that the warrior is… Scourge.”
“Did the letter say if the town was asking for help from anyone else?” Ylva asked.
“I’m sure they also sent a messenger to Lord Semesy. Between he and I, we protect their roads and fields during harvest. But, my lady, Lord Semesy is the cousin to Queen Cleptra. I’m certain he will request backup from her.”
“Then we must mov
e fast. Prepare your lands for extra guests. We will come promptly. We need to visit that town before Lord Semesy and the queens get wind of what is going on.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She removed the stone, breaking the connection. She turned to Ulfr. He bared his teeth at her, rubbing his side.
“Get your warriors ready. We leave within the hour.”
“And how do you purpose we cover thousands of miles in mere days?”
Ylva stared at him, expression as cold as a marble statue. “It is called magic, my dear simpleton. Now, do as I say. The faster we leave, the faster we can clean up your mess.” She spun on her heel and swept out of his tent.
At the first chance I’m going to gut that woman.
He pushed out of his tent and hollered orders. Then he focused once again on packing and anticipated putting Lance in his place. On a funeral pyre. At the hour mark, everyone was ready to leave. Ylva sat on her horse at the edge of the beach where dozens of boats docked. She had two seer stones set far apart while she stood in the center.
“Gather around. Come on, no time to waste.”
Dozens of soldiers along with their horses and gear did as she ordered, with Ulfr at the front. Then she turned her back on them, and Ulfr was hard pressed not to shove a knife into her spine. She spread out her hands and murmured something. He couldn’t hear what it was but it added weight to the air. The space in front of her rippled and sparkled before ripping open. Gasps and curses echoed among the warriors as a rip appeared, showing land from another place, hiding the water everyone should have seen.
Ylva urged her horse to leap through and then spun around to wave at them. “Come on, you cowards!”
Ulfr growled and galloped through the opening, his warriors at his back. They all managed to get through the opening before it closed, knitting together seamlessly.
“This better be worth it, Ulfr!” Ylva said. “That little maneuver cost me two seer stones. Find the dog and put him down.”
Ulfr bellowed out a command, and he followed Ylva down the road, journeying deeper into Cairon, straight to their host, Lord Khepi.
Chapter Eighteen
Gust wasn’t sure what in the gods’ name he was doing but his feelings for Lance kept growing deeper. He eyed Lance who lay beside them on the soft grass. Lance had erected the tent since rain was expected in the early morning. But right now, the sky was clear and the stars brightly visible. Brutus laid at their heads, staring off into the distance.
“The constellations are bright tonight,” Gust whispered, breaking the calm silence.
Lance glanced at him. “Constellations?”
Gust frowned. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and the added starlight allowed him to clearly see Lance’s face. He appeared confused and curious. His usual expression.
“The stars form shapes.”
Lance stared up again, frown deepening.
“No one taught you to stargaze?”
Lance shrugged. “Why would they bother? I was a weapon, nothing more.”
Sadness and pity weighed down Gust’s heart. He scooted closer and pressed their faces together. Lance caught his breath and said nothing. Gust took Lance’s hand and raised it, pressing their forefingers together so they both pointed to the sky.
“This is Uros,” Gust said as he traced the outline of one of the constellations. “He’s the great bear, first of Batsa’s children. Next to him is Wuldros, the giant wolf, his brother. It is told that they used to be friends before jealousy broke them apart. Jealousy flamed by the wraiths, the dreaded children of Snet and Mawn. The wraiths are sisters who flourish during the night and give humans bad dreams. They prey on children and the sickly. They love nothing and yet they do not hate, either. They are hungry and greedy, always wanting more. They don’t have a constellation. It is said that they are the black between stars, not visible until they see a tasty mortal they want to eat.”
Gust continued to trace different constellations and tell Lance about their origins as well as expanding on stories about star clusters they couldn’t see. Lance listened silently, gaze rapt on the stars, awe glimmering in his eyes.
“The moon is the child of Anknet, produced without a mate. The sun is the product of Hoksys, springing from his brow. Both the sun and the moon ride a chariot across the sky. But the moon must go fast and take different routes since she is constantly pursued by the children of Wuldros. They were corrupted by the wraiths with an undying hunger to destroy the moon’s light. If they ever catch her, the moon’s light will vanish forever.
Lance gulped.
Gust lowered their hands to Lance’s chest and fell silent. His parents had told him all those stories, one each night until he was no longer a child. He found great enjoyment in sharing them with his friend.
“Now you know the constellations,” Gust said softly.
“Thank you,” Lance whispered.
Gust laid his cheek on Lance’s shoulder, even knowing the danger—he was far too comfortable and the feeling of safety was something he hadn’t felt since his parents were alive. Gust interlaced their fingers and Lance squeezed. Lance’s chest moved slightly as he breathed, and he was warm. He smelled nice.
A drop of rain splattered against Gust’s cheek. He sighed.
“We best get inside before we’re soaked.” He looked at Brutus. “Will he be all right out here?”
Lance snorted, much like his horse, and sat up, still holding Gust’s hand. “He’s not afraid of a little rain. Are you, boy?”
Brutus nickered and shook his mane. He stood when they did and set up a guard once Lance and Gust retreated into the tent. The rain came swiftly and was a light drizzle instead of a downpour. The pitter-patter had a lulling affect, and it wasn’t long before Lance was breathing heavily, his body limp with sleep.
Gust stared at the roof of the tent, lost in thought. While they slept innocently side-by-side, there was no way Gust could ignore the sheer presence of Lance. Brutus’s saddle and bridle sat inside the tent, making it a tight squeeze for the two of them.
Lance muttered something in his sleep before rolling over on his side and wrapping an arm around Gust’s waist. His breath hitched before calming as Lance continued to snore softly. He gently touched Lance’s larger hand, feeling the scars, the calluses, imagining a pale blond child being trained by a savage monster. Lance had such a great capacity for love and kindness.
Before Gust had told him about the stars, Lance had recounted his encounter with Lukman. Gust had nearly burst with pride at Lance’s actions. He could have killed Lukman without much effort, and yet he chose mercy over aggression. And the reason for it?
“You didn’t like it when I hurt Dakar,” Lance had said with gaze averted. “I didn’t think you’d like it if I hurt Lukman.”
By the gods, Lance could be taught!
Gust gingerly rolled over and gazed at Lance’s sleeping face. That odd innocence and curiosity called to something inside Gust. Something protective. Despite the violence Lance must have faced at Ulfr’s hands, he was still so childlike. He needed to be guided, to be shown how to be a good man.
Should Gust be the one to do it?
“I care about you,” Gust whispered. “I care far more than I should.”
Lance, still asleep, pushed closer as if responding to his words. He pressed his face into Gust’s chest and tightened his hold. Gust smiled as his heart ached. He laid an arm over Lance’s waist and closed his eyes, soothed by Lance’s gentle snoring.
Gust winced as Lance smacked the sword out of Jabari hand and tripped him. Jabari thudded to the ground with an oomph and then Lance held the tip of his blade to his throat.
“Don’t let your guard down,” Lance said, only slightly panting.
Jabari gasped for air, glaring at him.
Lance stepped back before scanning those he trained. “Show no mercy because mercy will not be shown to you. Not one of Ulfr’s gang has any heart or conscious left to them. Many of the women are more vicious
than the men, and not one will hesitate to cut you down. All the rumors you’ve heard about Ulfr are true. Believe every single word. This is not a game.”
He sounded angry. Gust frowned at that. So did the sheriff. Lance sheathed his sword before holding out a hand to Jabari. Jabari stared at it for a second before gripping it and letting Lance pull him to his feet. Lance patted Jabari shoulder before striding away. Gust stared at his retreating back as Kafele took over the training. The sun was setting on the seventh day since Ragel’s arrival and death, and Gust knew his people were becoming restless, wavering between desiring Ulfr’s arrival to get it over with, and dreading it with each passing day. He could arrive at any time.
Lord Semesy’s soldiers had yet to arrive, and there was still no answer from Lord Khepi. Another messenger and been sent to both that morning. Fear was visceral and hovered like a thick cloud over Thebys. The council sent scouts to several larger villages and towns in all directions to make sure they received some warning before his arrival, and to warn those places that Ulfr might soon darken their streets.
Perhaps Lance was feeling edgy as well, which would explain the anger. Despite never saying it, he had to be feeling some fear or trepidation. To come face-to-face with the man who’d brutally trained him, then nearly killed him, and now hunted him wasn’t something taken lightly. There might even be some guilt in there as well. Lance had mentioned his regret for bringing Ulfr’s attention down on their heads. Many of the townsfolk hadn’t forgiven him for that.
Gust was feeling his own trepidation upon seeing face-to-face the man that slaughtered his parents. Despite Lance’s reassurances that Scourge was just a man in armor, Gust wasn’t so sure. He had to be the spawn of Mawn. Ulfr might have ordered the kill but Scourge….
Gust swallowed hard.